


Two Moon Orbit

by sinspiration



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Demisexual Keith (Voltron), Galra Shiro (Voltron), I guess!!, I say 'may' but I mean 'will', M/M, Meta, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Rating May Change, Rimming, Shiro Goes a'Courting, Size Difference, Slow Burn, is this meta?, not REALLY as I'm an impatient person, possibly, rating has officially changed as of chapter 6, took me long enough, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinspiration/pseuds/sinspiration
Summary: “You’re very good,” a voice behind him rumbled, as Keith finished his training simulation and, panting, got back to his feet.He turned, looked up. And up. This Galra was big even for a Galra. Absently Keith noted the scar across the bridge of his nose, the right arm, black instead of purple, that looked perfectly alive and functional, but not quite...natural. The Galra's ears were up and forward, all his attention squarely on Keith.“Thanks,” Keith said.“I’m Shiro.” He held out his hand.Or: Galra!Shiro courts Keith, who definitely likes him back. It just takes a minute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping on the wagon of Galra!Shiro Fic Inspired By Art. @Jotakorium on twitter, thank you and goodnight.
> 
> (this was supposed to be a dumb like 900 word ficlet about RIMMING. and instead LOOK AT THIS NONSENSE.)
> 
> (rimming is still going to happen obvs it just might. take a while longer.)

When Keith had learned that he would be making a place for himself amongst the Galra for the foreseeable future, he had braced himself for the rigors of having to prove his worth over and over. He fully expected the constant poking and prodding, the comments of him not being good enough, not being strong enough, the smirks whenever he entered a training hall.

Settling in mostly consisted of doing his best to knock a bunch of giant alien cats off their very, very high horses.

Figuratively and literally because holy _fuck_ it was one thing to be fighting them and dealing with it in the moment, but another to being constantly surrounded by… very large individuals.

It kept him on his toes. Allowing for that in his interactions and his movements. Not only just when he sparred, but when he talked to them. He didn’t go out of his way to start up conversations or anything, but he got into the habit of automatically looking _up_ when someone called his name. At least, small favors, their hearing was pretty good so he didn’t have to worry about talking louder.

Things did mostly come down to the sparring though. That part was fun. He was constantly learning new ways to use their height and bulk against them, putting his own body to use in the best way he could. He worked to match them and then best them, because when you were the lowest on the totem pole, you needed to be the _best_ to be even considered half as good.

They were flexible but so was he. They moved with fluidity and grace, but he moved better. They were agile and fast, he was a blur _and_ small enough to get between legs and duck under arms and, occasionally, climb up a body to use his entire person as leverage to follow through with a takedown.

His size, he thought smugly, was an advantage when it came to an actual fight. He fucking hated being underestimated, but that only made victory sweeter.

“You’re very good,” a voice behind him rumbled, as Keith finished his training simulation and, panting, got back to his feet.

He turned, looked up. And up. This Galra was big even for a Galra. Absently Keith noted the scar across the bridge of his nose, the right arm, black instead of purple, that looked perfectly alive and functional, but not quite...natural. The Galra's ears were up and forward, all his attention squarely on Keith.

“Thanks,” Keith said.

“I’m Shiro.” He held out his hand. The black one.

“Keith.” They shook. Shiro’s hand enveloped Keith’s, but he was gentle with it, running a claw across Keith’s wrist as they let go.

Keith looked down at his hand and then back up at Shiro. It was late, because that’s when the training hall was emptier. Keith was perfectly fine using it when it was busy, but it was also nice not having an audience. He was an oddity here, and thus something to stare at, even if he was doing the same thing as everyone else. “Did you want to use the room? I can go.” It was late enough that trying to sleep wouldn’t be remiss.

Shiro shook his head. “I don’t want to keep you from your own training. We can share.”

Keith shrugged. Fine. He’d do some blade work. They nodded at each other and headed to separate areas of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Keith felt eyes on him. He glanced over. Shiro also had a blade out. And his stance…

“Were you copying me?” Keith asked, squinting at him.

Shiro scratched his cheek with one claw. It seemed like an absurd motion, that he appeared to be embarrassed. “It was interesting. I haven’t seen that form before.”

“Made it up.”

“Really?”

Keith only didn’t bristle because Shiro sounded impressed, not disbelieving, but he did break eye contact. “Yeah. I pick up what I learn and incorporate it all into different forms.”

“Interesting.”

Keith snapped his head up. Shiro’s voice had deepened, gotten rougher. A threat--? But no, he was still across the room. Eyes bright, ears forward. Watching Keith with an intensity that he didn’t know what to do with. It was just forms. Weapons work. Keith was a weapon himself.

Maybe it really was time to go to bed.

“I’m going to head out,” he ended up saying. It felt only right to excuse himself, when they’d been talking and were the only two in the room.

Shiro nodded. Took one step forward, then stopped. “Have a good night.”

“Um, yeah. You too.”

 

***

 

Of course, Keith thought with gritted teeth, one couldn’t go for straight-out incapacitation in a sparring match. In a real life situation he’d breaking bones, cutting flesh, but in sparring simulation all his _real_ skill couldn’t be applied against a flesh-and-bone opponent.

He didn’t spar the Galra often, for this very reason. Getting pinned lowered his credibility, even if his skill showed through during the rest of the match.

“I yield,” he muttered, face in the mat and arm twisted behind him. He didn’t have the leverage to fight free. In a proper fight he’d be struggling more, possibly breaking his arm with the effort to get out of the hold and then getting in close to _win_ however he needed to. But he couldn’t _actually_ maim the people on this ship to prove a point. Or himself.

The weight on his back and arm didn’t let up. Keith started to sweat. “I said--”

“Let him up, Theron,” a voice said. It sounded deceptively mild, but the pressure moved away immediately. Keith twisted, rolled, and sprang to his feet, shaking out his arm. It ached a little from the position and the force.

Shiro was watching, him and Theron both. He was the one who had spoken, and who Theron responded to without question or grumbling.

“Everything alright?”

“Just fine,” Keith said quickly. He didn’t know much about politics, but he knew about saving face. No Galra on the ship would thank him if he let Theron get in trouble. And he wasn’t about to complain about an ache that’d be gone in a moment.

“Good.”

Shiro nodded at them both, eyes meeting Keith’s for just a touch too long, and then he turned away.

“Good match,” Keith managed to mumble to Theron.

Theron at least spared him a glance before he walked away himself.

 

***

 

Keith loved the stars. Whenever things got too crowded, too tight, his heart squeezing in his chest for things he couldn’t even name, he was able to look out into the not-void of the universe and breathe a little easier.

It had been a little over a week now, and he wasn’t quite the outcast he had started as, but it was still a lot very quickly, of cloying silence. Keith had no problem with silence, but the ostracization was a heavy pressure. Being alone when surrounded by people was almost worse than being alone when you had no one.

“You come here a lot,” Shiro said.

Keith didn’t turn. By now he was used to the quiet comments, occasional questions, Shiro moving around him silently but with intent. He felt as if he was in orbit, or maybe starting his own, because Shiro seemed to always be there now. Keith wasn’t sure why, except that he was feeling a pull of his own, too.

It made sense. Shiro paid him attention, talked to him outside of briefings, made him feel as if he wasn’t a disappointment. That he deserved to be an equal.

Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Shiro, who had a presence and a command, who others listened to but who also seemed to stand apart. They were both just slightly wrong to fit a mold; Keith too small and Shiro… too big, maybe. His thoughts and ideas and feelings were so vast, even when one considered his body.

“I like the stars.” Keith said. He did turn, now, because he didn’t have the words as to why, what magic he thought they held. How important they were, how important freedom was, and belonging and… maybe Shiro would at least be able to see his answer in Keith’s face.

“Beautiful,” Shiro replied, not taking his eyes away from Keith’s own.

 

***

 

“May I touch you?” Shiro asked one day, apropos of nothing.

They were sitting together, in a quiet corner. Both reading, because Shiro had paperwork and Keith devoured knowledge whenever it was allowed. Shiro had found him, wedged into a corner needing to be separate but out of his room, and had asked to join him.

Keith glanced up at him and then glanced away. He didn’t get touched much. Never had been one for it. Which was fine, because he didn’t like it.

That’s what he told himself.

Being touched meant fighting and hurting, mostly. Occasionally simply training, with positions being adjusted, but never more than that. Once in awhile it meant camaraderie; an arm slung along his shoulder or a hand at his back. Since he’d come here, he’d had none of that.

Shiro was still waiting for his answer. Quietly, and clearly expecting nothing either way.

Keith trusted him as much as he could trust anybody. “Sure, I guess.”

Shiro smiled at him and leaned closer. Keith stayed still and didn’t flinch--didn’t breath--when Shiro brushed a careful hand across his cheek and down his neck. “Thank you,” he said, when he moved back.

“Um.” Keith licked his lips, feeling warm and uncertain. “You’re welcome?”

The smile turned into a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting to more of the galra stuff I promise. Probably.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It became a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Another update! I spent most of the day reading and/or writing so here you go, more fic from me.  
> Here we have developments~

It became a thing. Suddenly he _was_ being touched again. Shiro had started out with asking permission every time, until Keith had snapped at him and said it was fine, he didn’t mind, and if he did he’d just toss Shiro over his shoulder. It had gotten another grin, and Keith liked Shiro’s grins. Liked when Shiro’s face softened as he looked at Keith.

So now it was hands at his back--large, large hands that could splay almost to both shoulders, or a fingertip running across his neck and making him shiver. Shiro’s touch on his shoulder or tugging Keith along by the hand to show him something. Shiro brushing Keith’s cheek, a greeting now, and a goodbye.

It was nice and it was strange, and Keith was sure it meant something but he didn’t know exactly what it was. Most of the Galra kept their distance still, though it was getting better somewhat, probably in part helped by Shiro’s… inclusion.

It did not, however, mean that Keith enjoyed being touched by others. Shiro had earned his trust and then asked for permission. Other Galra were not Shiro, and while he was getting friendly with some, wariness still had a way of being present in his life in all ways.

Estril was a nice enough guy. He was a decent sparring partner and didn’t push too far, but he was loud in a way that Keith wasn’t a fan of, and sometimes he teased with words that made Keith’s stomach twist uncertainly, but without a menace that would let Keith do something about it.

They ran into each other once in a while outside of the training hall; the ship was only so big after all, but normally it was to exchange a few words and keep going. This time Estril smiled at him and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Come to the mess hall with me.” It wasn’t a command, of course it wasn’t, but it didn’t sound like a suggestion either. Keith tensed up because with friendlies, only one option is acceptable when it came to _flight, fight, or freeze._ He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t leave and potentially cause offence. His position here was tenuous at best, because no matter how often he proved himself, he would always be an outsider.

“Yeah, okay.”

They started to walk. Estril’s hand remained. Keith felt as though every eye was on him as they continued down the hall, even though he wasn’t sure why.

They crossed paths with Shiro, who was holding a datapad and talking to two other Galra. For a moment Keith expected to pass unnoticed, but Shiro’s ears twitched and he looked over at them. “Estril,” he said in greeting. Then, “Keith.” with what sounded like a softness.

“Hey,” Keith said, fingers twitching up in a wave. Estril also nodded, and then his own fingers moved from Keith’s shoulder to brush over his neck and across his cheek before settling again. A small thing, maybe not even intentional. Shiro’d done it to Keith dozens of times now.

Keith flinched anyway and Shiro--

Shiro _snarled._

The silence following was stark and immediate; everyone frozen and staring at Shiro. Shiro’s gaze flicked from Estril to Keith, and then he took a step back. “Excuse me.” He turned on his heel and left, tail lashing behind him, the rest of them blinking in his wake.

And then turning to look at Keith. Estril’s hand slid away.

“I’m going to, uh…” Keith jerked a thumb over his shoulder and made his own escape.

 

***

 

Later, Keith answered a knock on his door to see Shrio there, holding a bundle. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey, Keith.”

Keith waited, because Shiro must have had some reason to come visit him. They sought each other out often enough during normal hours. Shiro somehow always managed to know where to find Keith. But Shiro had never come to his room before. “What’s up?” he asked, prompting when Shiro didn’t say anything else.

“I brought you something,” Shiro said. He held out the bundle.

Keith took it. It unfolded into a piece of clothing. Soft and red, with long sleeves and a hood. It was large, but not ridiculously so. It would be big on Keith, but could never fit Shiro with the way he was built now. Keith looked from the top to Shiro, bemused.

“It gets cold,” Shiro said. “I know it does. And you don’t have as much insulation.”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” A moment of silence passed that felt expectant, and Keith decided to pull the red thing on.

It was deliciously soft and indeed very warm, and felt luxurious in a way Keith was wholly unused to. “Wow,” he said quietly, fiddling with the sleeves.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s really nice. Thank you.” It felt like wearing a hug. One that smelled like Shiro, and Keith wasn’t going to think too hard about how happy that made him.

Shiro beamed at him. “You’re welcome.”

Keith shoved his hands in the pocket of the top and rocked back on his heels. “I feel bad.”

“Why?”

“Cause this is really nice. I feel like I should be giving you something back.”

Shiro smiled at him. “You give me plenty.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. Shiro laughed. “I’m glad you like the gift. It makes me happy that you accepted it.”

Was this another Galra thing Keith had never learned? “Well. Good, then, I guess.”

Another smile, and Shiro held out his hand, hovering it in front of Keith’s face. “May I?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but tilted his head up and to the side. Shiro ran his knuckles from Keith’s neck to cheek, stroked through his hair. That was always Keith’s favorite part, when Shiro played with his hair, and he let himself close his eyes this time, to savor it. It was late and no one was around, and he was allowed a little bit of vulnerability.

There was a sharp intake of breath, but the fingers carding through his hair stayed gentle, so Keith didn’t get his hackles up, though he did open his eyes. Shiro was looking down at him with a facial expression Keith didn’t know how to interpret.

Shiro stroked down his cheek one more time before he dropped his hand to Keith’s shoulder. He squeezed gently, then pulled away entirely, leaving Keith colder. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Keith said.

 

***

 

He took to wearing the red hoodie around as casual wear, an extra layer against what was indeed the cold of space, in a ship full of beings that ran warmer than he did. He noticed that he sometimes got double-takes when he walked into rooms while wearing it. Someone would glance at him and look away, then almost audibly inhale and glance back over at him, eyes a little wider. Keith always met those expressions with his own raised eyebrow. _What?_ He didn’t ask out loud. _What is it? This was a gift, and it’s mine. Shiro gave it to me, and it’s mine._ It was odd, but there never seemed to be malicious intent, so he didn’t care.

The hoodie disappeared when it was time for him to wash it, and he near tore his room apart in his search. He left for training angry and upset, furious with himself that he’d managed to misplace something so important. He took his anger out on simulations, working his body until he forgot about why he was mad. Though when he was trudging back to his room, he remembered with a bone-weary sadness. And it was so stupid, it was just a piece of cloth, but it had been _his._ And Shiro had given it to him. It was important, and he’d been so stupid, managing to lose it.

It was folded on his bed, when he returned from the training hall. Obviously clean, and… smelling like Shiro.

Keith picked it up and buried his face in it and tried not to shake.

 

***

 

They took to spending all their downtime together. Meals and reading, sitting and talking. Keith told Shiro a little about his own past, comfortable enough to divulge it, even if he had to keep his tone light and easy to avoid the other option, which would be breaking down.

Shiro told him about his arm one day. About proving his worth as Champion. About escaping and joining the Blades.

“Never again,” Shiro said, voice quiet but hard. “I never want to be in that situation again. And I will fight with all of myself to ensure that the battles stop.”

Keith was sitting on Shiro’s right side. It was pure instinct to reach and grab his hand. Curl his fingers around Shiro’s metal ones. “I’m sorry,” he said. It wasn’t enough. But it was all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad I met you,” Shiro said quietly. “I’m glad I was able to get out and meet you.”

Keith had to laugh. “I’m nothing special.”

“You are.” Fervently. “You are, Keith. So special.”

It was a heavy moment, making him go warm, Keith unused to the praise. “Well,” he managed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Shiro smiled, but his expression ran deeper than amusement. “Keith--”

A beep, echoing out loudly. They looked at each other and then checked the message. A summons. A fight.

Keith bounced to his feet, Shiro just behind him, and they moved together toward the bridge. Suited up.

“Be safe,” Keith said, holding his helmet.

Shiro nodded. “You too.”

He turned to go, and Keith got a flash of an idea. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

Keith liked making Shiro smile. Wanted him happy. Wanted to offer him more, within this new friendship they were building. He held out a hand. “Come here.”

Obligingly, Shiro leaned down a little, so that Keith could put one hand on his chest and go up on his toes and stroke his own knuckles across Shiro’s cheek. Shiro’s eyes widened, and Keith felt his breathing go ragged underneath his palm.

"I'll see you when it's over," Keith said, before he put on his helmet and turned away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was the usual flurry of activity as they all landed, stripped down out of their gear, reported in. Keith had a headache, a hit that had rocked him hard within his craft, but nothing pressing. He went to find Shiro, because he wanted to check in. Make sure he was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! The next one will probably be slower to come (I... have a book coming out next week and. need to maybe. work on that.) but I hope you like this latest bit!

Battle was always exhilarating. It was an adrenaline rush, coupled with being hyper focused and hyper aware. On and on and on, and Keith didn’t live for this, not really, but he was good at it and that was what mattered. He watched the backs of his fellows and pushed himself and when the debris had cleared, it was a victory. Small ones building up into big ones. Safe for another day.

There was the usual flurry of activity as they all landed, stripped down out of their gear, reported in. Keith had a headache, a hit that had rocked him hard within his craft, but nothing pressing. He went to find Shiro, because he wanted to check in. Make sure he was okay.

It was easy enough to pick him out. Shiro was a leader with a commanding presence, and even if he wasn’t  _ the _ leader he was still a high rank. Important and deserving of it. Keith was a leader too, but he wasn’t a leader  _ here _ and part of being a leader was knowing when to step back and let others take charge. That was his whole position in the Blades. Being a part of something as a cog. 

He didn’t mind. He wanted to be useful. Cogs were some of the most useful parts of any machine. There were also many of them, and they had to fit together to work and run properly.

Shiro turned as he approached. He always knew when Keith was near. By now Keith figured it was a scent-thing. Galra had powerful noses. 

Shiro was busy talking to others, so Keith didn’t interrupt, instead nodding at him, taking the moment to look him over. Whole and unhurt. He felt Shiro do the same to him, and so Keith grinned at him and held out his hands, palms out.  _ I’m just fine. _

Shiro accounted for, Keith headed to the training hall. Headache or not, he needed to move. He was thrumming with energy and it was better to work it off, instead of buzzing around his room, restless.

The training hall wasn’t empty. Several others were like Keith, in that this was the way they wound down after battle. He found an empty spot, out of the way, and started to move in a way that let his body relax and come down of the high of battle and clear his mind. 

The training hall started to empty, and Keith eventually had to admit to his own exhaustion. He used his shirt to wipe at his face, looked up to see Shiro watching him, eyes bright.

“Oh, hey,” Keith said. “When did you get here?”

Shiro shrugged and waved a hand. “Not too long ago. Are you done?”

“Yeah. Figured I’d shower and then give myself some quiet time.”

Shiro nodded. “I’ll wait.”

Another reason why Keith often waited until the halls were empty; he wasn’t ashamed of his body, but he wasn’t about showing it off to other people either. He liked his privacy and there wasn’t a lot of that, on a ship, so he took it where he could.

Shiro was leaning against the wall, waiting for him, when Keith emerged, hair wet. He’d brought nothing to change into, so the next stop was his rooms. He'd only pulled on the bottom part of his suit, tying the top around his waist, since he wanted to change out of his sweat-soaked things as soon as possible. Especially since the rest of him was clean. 

Shiro fell into step next to him, and they walked quietly through the halls. He followed him into Keith’s room when Keith held open the door, and stood patiently while Keith went to his closet and pulled out a pair of soft pants and his red shirt. Keith didn’t hesitate to peel off his uniform and throw on his clean clothes. There was wanting privacy and then there was Shiro, and Keith didn’t mind Shiro being around. 

“You okay?” Keith asked, when he’d finished getting dressed. Shiro was often quiet, but Keith could tell when it was quiet born of having something to say.

“Yes. Just thinking.” Shiro lifted one shoulder, dropped it back down. “I’m looking forward to when the fighting will end.”

Keith went to sit on his bed. It was ridiculously large for him, since it had been made for a Galra. A simple, quiet luxury. He patted the space next to him. Shiro sat, tail curling up around Keith’s waist, like it often did now when they were sitting together. Keith pressed in close, trying to offer comfort. He didn’t know why this battle out of all of the ones Shiro had faced was different, but he would give Shiro what he could.

“You’re not hurt?” Shiro asked, after a moment.

“Nah. Bit of a headache, but that’s it.”

Shiro’s hand dropped to rest on Keith’s head, fingers starting to card through his hair. Keith hummed and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“I haven’t been in a battle with you before,” Shiro said.

Keith didn’t open his eyes, but he knew he sounded confused when he said, “Yeah, you have.” There had been one not long after they’d met, though the things in-between had been recon stuff.

“That was before I knew you.”

“Oh.” Keith supposed that made sense, though he wasn’t sure why the differentiation mattered. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Shiro said, still stroking through Keith’s hair.

“Back atcha.”

They stayed like that, quietly, just being with each other, until, incredibly, Keith fell asleep. He woke up the next morning tucked under his covers, feeling as though something important had happened but not quite sure what it was.

 

***

 

Keith found Shiro on his way to the training hall, and took the opportunity to ask a favor. “Hey, Shiro?”

“Mm?”

“I have a move I’ve been wanting to try out. Do you wanna play test subject?”

Shiro shot him an amused look, but followed him inside. “Sure. How do you want to set up?”

“Just some hand to hand,” Keith said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’d been watching old movies, the kind that had fights more for show than anything else, but one move had stuck out to him. It was done by a small, lithe woman against a giant of a man and, well, Keith could admit to a few similarities when it came to how he’d needed to adapt his fighting style. It had looked interesting enough that he wanted to try it out. See if it could actually be useful in a fight if done properly, though mostly he just wanted to see if he  _ could _ do it. 

Shrio grinned at him, and then he lunged, Keith just barely moving out of the way. Shiro was fast and strong and skilled, and usually bested him, if only because, like always, there were certain more damaging moves that Keith wasn’t able to utilize during a friendly sparring session.

It was exhilarating being pinned by Shiro anyway, an odd mix of appreciation for his skills and, strangely, safety. Shiro was larger and pounds of muscle stronger, but Keith knew with all of himself that he had absolutely nothing to fear.

Regardless, his purpose today was to get Shiro to the floor in a very specific motion, so Keith ducked and dodged and weaved, playing the defensive until Shiro shifted his weight and dropped his left shoulder and gave Keith the opening he was looking for.

It was a pretty enough show of skill, Keith decided, as he grabbed ahold of Shiro’s arm and swung himself up his body, before wrapping his legs around Shiro’s neck and dropping his weight. Pretty and fun to play around with, but obvious the moment they landed that it was a silly thing purely for show. 

The sprawl was inelegant, Keith’s legs still around Shiro’s neck, his hands splayed out on the mat from where he’d slapped them down to cushion his fall. Shiro had one large hand wrapped around Keith’s waist, encircling over half of it, the other also on the mats, propping himself up. Keith was the vulnerable one in this position, unless he squeezed his thighs in tighter to try for a headlock, and there were way better ways to follow through with one, over a move that ended with him flat on his back and exposed.

Keith laughed and let his legs fall open, pushing his hair out of his face. “Okay. Fun, but useless. Thanks for letting me learn that the hard way.”

Shiro said nothing, only let out a rumble deep in his chest before… nuzzling in closer between Keith’s legs.

Keith’s breath left him all at once, the rush of blood immediate, and he lay there, frozen, gaping up at Shiro. Shiro’s gaze swept over him, eyes heavy lidded, his thumb stroking over Keith’s hipbone, tail curling around Keith’s ankle.

Time seemed to slow, and Shiro licked his lips and leaned forward, but then his ears flicked back and he was moving away, rolling to his feet, as the doors to the hall opened and a group of several Galra entered.

Keith swallowed and took the hand-up Shiro offered, then made his excuses and left.

He ended up in his room, running his hands over his body, and imagined them larger, hotter, skating across his skin.

 

***

 

They met in the mess hall for dinner. Keith ate at a table with others now, included in talk and laughter. Still, he mostly stayed quiet, preferring to concentrate on his food. Shiro, as usual, had taken a seat next to him and they bumped shoulders every so often. Companionable as it always was, and Keith thought for a moment that he was overthinking things, except that every once in a while Shiro looked down at him with eyes that made something inside Keith stutter.

He remembered Shiro between his legs, moving in close against him in the training hall, breath warm and face intent. His large hand wrapped around Keith’s waist, and he knew what it felt like, to have Shiro pressed against him...

“Not hungry?” Shiro asked quietly. 

Keith shook his head to clear it and resumed eating, willfully ignoring some of the glances of the other Galra being thrown his way. 

Shiro tilted his head, ears flicking to the side, and got up before Keith was finished. He pressed a hand against Keith’s back as he went, a signal for Keith to stay put, and returned moments later. Placed a pale pink and gold fruit on Keith’s plate. “I heard the cooks talking and figured I’d beat the rush,” he said, grinning at Keith when Keith raised his eyebrows.

“Thanks,” Keith said, and meant it. Fruit was rare, and Keith wasn’t always in the mood to fight for it when it was available. He was happy enough with a full stomach. But this was another gift, and it felt like being provided for, and Keith savored that feeling along with the flavor when he bit into ripe sweetness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY HAVE NOT KISSED YET. Honestly, I set out to write _one thing--_


	4. Shiro's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has thoughts too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "hey," I said to myself, "I have an idea! Instead of trying to get to the kissing, why not write over tWO THOUSAND WORDS about Galra!Shiro falling in love with Keith! That's a great idea! Right? Right??"
> 
> anyway here, have over two thousand words of Galra!Shiro falling in love with Keith.

The paladin was small. That was Shiro’s first thought, when he’d been informed of their newest shipmate. He’d seen him from a distance as he boarded and introduced himself to a room full of Galra that made him seem even smaller. Watched as he fell silent and rubbed one arm, uncertainty flashing across his face before it blanked.

Small, but apparently he’d be useful. _Formidable_ had been a word used to describe him. Also “tenacious” and whispers of “vicious.” The latter had been said with semi-respect, although still overlaid with hints of doubt.

Shiro had been interested to learn more about this half-alien, with his pale, pink skin that look too easily bruisable, and compact, slim body that supposedly contained enough power that he was considered an asset. The Blades were careful about who they let into their innermost ranks. Even Shiro had been viewed with suspicion at first. And no wonder, coming from the arena, fitted with an arm made by the enemy and nearly broken from his determination to survive.

It had taken a while to convince them to stop referring to him as Champion.

So Shiro took the time to observe, over the first couple days. It was easy enough to pick out the paladin’s scent, so different from any full-blooded Galra.

Mostly Shiro saw that he was quiet. He did work given to him and otherwise kept his head down. Ate alone in the mess hall, read quietly in corners of the ship away from others. Trained by himself, when he was able to.

Training was pretty much the only time Shiro saw the paladin interact with others. Occasionally he asked to spar. That was when his personality really started to show through. He was fast and strong and agile, and gave all of his partners a challenge. He was usually pinned, and Shiro caught frustration and irritation pass across his face every time, for all that the paladin yielded quietly and without complaint.

Shiro also caught a lot of aborted movements. Stopping just shy of breaking a bone, or drawing blood, or hitting _too_ hard. And Shiro got the feeling that, in a real match, there would be a lot less pinning.

It was enough to make him more curious. On the third night since the paladin came on board, Shiro went to the training hall after everyone else had retired. As expected, he was there, blade in hand, training with a simulation.

“You’re very good,” Shiro told him when he had rolled to his feet.

The paladin turned, eyes immediately tracking up and down Shiro’s body, cataloging him. Shiro hid his smile.

“Thanks,” he said eventually, as if unsure how to receive a compliment.

“I’m Shiro.” He held out his hand to shake. The nails of his prosthetic retracted, allowing him blunter tips, and it didn’t cross his mind until the paladin had placed his hand in Shiro’s that maybe he should have pulled them in.

“Keith.” He said it as a formality; they both were aware that Shiro had to know Keith’s name.

Shiro couldn’t help running a fingernail over Keith’s wrist after they shook hands, taking in the contrast between their colors, the little blue veins, how large just Shiro’s finger was in relation to Keith.

Keith frowned and glanced down at his hand before looking up at Shiro. “Did you want to use the room? I can go.”

Shiro shook his head. The entire point was to stay and learn more about Keith. There was only so much one could glean from a distance. He said something along the lines of being happy to share the room, and Keith shrugged. Hefted his blade and went a little aways to give them both more space.

Shiro didn’t recognize the form Keith began, but it was a beautiful series of movements that showcased deadly, capable grace. He quickly chose his own blade and began to follow along. If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to watch more closely.

“Were you copying me?” Keith asked incredulously, when he noticed what Shiro was doing.

Shiro scratched his cheek, feeling caught out. He had already found Keith interesting and done plenty of observing. But it felt different, this close, watching Keith move with single-minded determination and ferocity, able to smell the sweat beading on his brow without other scents masking him.

They exchanged a few more words and then Keith excused himself.

Shiro caught himself before he reached out to touch, fingers twitching with the urge to do so. “Have a good night.”

“Um, yeah.” And there it was again, the clear surprise at a friendly word. “You too.”

Shiro thought about that surprise a lot, and the loneliness behind it, as he got ready to turn in.

 

***

Theron wasn’t necessarily a bully, but he did like to push boundaries, see how much he could get away with. When Keith yielded and Theron didn’t let up, Shiro had to fight to keep the snarl out of his voice when he intervened. Keith was strong, that much was obvious, but he was fighting with a clear disadvantage, being unable to follow-through with more debilitating movements. He didn’t deserve humiliation for that.

“Everything alright?”

“Just fine,” Keith said as he shook out his arm.

“Good.” Shiro nodded at Theron, then at Keith, forcing him to meet his eyes. _I won’t stand for this. You’re too good to be treated like you aren’t._

He turned away but kept an ear flicked in Keith’s direction for the rest of the afternoon.

 

***

 

With every new piece Keith revealed about himself, it was easier and easier for Shiro to find him beautiful.

 

***

 

It took time for Shiro to work up the courage to ask Keith for permission to touch him. He’d seen enough now, to know that the only time Keith was ever touched by others was when he sparred. Getting scents smeared all over his body _that_ way and it drove Shiro a little crazy, to think that Keith had nothing else. No tactility. No companion-scent.

Though Shiro wasn’t sure how he’d feel about Keith’s scent mixing with a different person's, with different intentions. He... wanted Keith to smell like him.

And he knew that scent meant much less to Keith, but _Shiro_ would be aware.

As would everyone else.

 

***

 

Shiro grew bolder, the more Keith allowed. The fact that Keith allowed anything at all was a pleasure in itself, but it made something in Shiro stir, knowing Keith was going around properly scented. Properly scented by _him,_ and others were picking up on it and that was a pleasure too. More people were taking notice of Keith now, finally seeing all the amazing qualities they’d previously been blind to. But Shiro had been first and Keith accepted _his_ touch on his cheeks, his neck, let Shiro card through his hair. No one else.

 _Mine._ _Not yours._

The possessiveness that had risen up when Estril left a scent mark wasn’t a surprise, but he dared touch when he hadn’t been given _permission_ , Keith’s flinch revealing that well enough. Shiro’s anger was immediate and fierce, and he’d had to leave before he challenged Estril right there.

It just meant he hadn’t done enough for Keith, not yet. Not enough to protect him from other advances--advances he didn’t seem to want. Even as he got friendly with other Galra, Shiro was the one he kept letting in.

Shiro had been happy enough to just have Keith accept his first gift-- a warm, soft sweater in Keith’s professed favorite color. But then Keith started _wearing_ it. Out and about, for everyone else to see and smell, and Shiro couldn’t help feeling smug and satisfied.

 _This is who I’ve chosen to court and he’s allowing it and_ **_you can’t have him._ **

And then, before a battle, Keith had motioned Shiro to come closer and pressed a hand to his chest, reaching up with his other hand. Gently stroked his scent across Shiro’s cheek.

It was all Shiro could do not to kiss him right then.

 

***

 

He’d seen Keith get hit, rocking with the force of it, and only had thoughts to check him over once the battle was won, but he got waylaid by debrief questions and had been unable to do anything but answer as calmly as he could. Pushing down the urge to _go_ , check on his chosen.

He heard/smelled Keith approach and jerked his head up to pick him out. Relaxed slightly at Keith’s grin, his easy shrug. _See? I’m fine._

It was enough to mollify him until he could escape, heading straight for the training hall, where he knew Keith would be. He had said before, that moving his body was a good way for him to clear his head, and Shiro had no doubt that this was a time that might warrant it.

Keith was indeed in the hall, putting himself through his paces. He was beautiful to see, all grace and power, and Shiro leaned against a wall to watch for long moments, as the hall slowly emptied of others.

Eventually it was just them, Keith moving with single-minded efficiency and Shiro drinking him in, focus intensifying when Keith used his shirt to wipe at his face.

“Oh, hey,” Keith said, noticing him standing there. He smiled, small but so bright, with no underlying uncertainty. All for Shiro. “When did you get here?”

Shiro shrugged and waved a hand. “A few minutes ago. Are you done?” He hoped Keith was. He could see the sheen of exhaustion in Keith’s shaking limbs. Coming down from a fight and then time spent in the training hall--Shiro just wanted to curl up with him for a little while. Calm him any way he knew how. Make sure he was really okay.

He waited while Keith showered, looking his fill when Keith emerged, hair wet, the top half of his suit tied around his waist.

Shiro always had the same thrill run through him whenever Keith invited him into his room. Keith’s room was his safe space, his own personal little area, and, Shrio knew, few people were allowed inside.

It was also soaked with his scent, so much so that it was almost overwhelming. Shiro wanted so much--

His throat went dry when Keith gave him his back and changed without hesitation. The--the display of _trust_ was…

One day, Shiro thought. One day the fighting would stop and he’d be able to do things properly. Prove himself worthy. Give Keith everything.

For now, though, Keith was inviting Shiro to sit next to him on his bed. Pressing up against him in an obvious bid to comfort. Shiro curled his tail around Keith’s waist and started to stroke his hair, keeping his breathing steady and even as Keith closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure.

_Thank you for letting me do this for you._

_I want to do so much more._

And then Keith… Keith fell asleep against him. Going soft and relaxed and so very vulnerable.

It took Shiro’s breath away.

 

***

 

Sparring with Keith, for Shiro, was a multi-faceted activity. It meant fun and play, rolling around with him. It meant each of them drawing the other out, showcasing better and better moves. It meant some posturing, a bit of showing off. It meant a chance to touch in different ways, allowing his control to slip just a little as he let himself be wilder.

It meant, sometimes, Keith ended up on the floor with Shiro pinning him down, air getting thicker as Keith put up a struggle before relaxing completely underneath him.

Shiro was always quick to let him up, because otherwise he was altogether too tempted to _keep_ him there, dip his head down and--

“I have a move I’ve been wanting to try out. Do you wanna play test subject?”

“Sure. How do you want to set up?”

“Just some hand to hand.”

Shiro grinned and then lunged, as always taking the moment to admire how neatly Keith moved. So small, but so _strong._ Smart and beautiful, determined and fiercely good, a living knife’s edge.

He was not expecting Keith to swing himself up Shiro’s own body, even less expecting the legs wrapping around his neck as Keith dropped backwards, using his weight and momentum as leverage to pull Shiro to the floor.

They ended up tangled together, Keith on his back, arms splayed out and his legs still locked around Shiro’s neck. They dropped open as Keith laughed and pushed his hair out of his face. He was flushed and smiling, and Shiro had his hand wrapped around Keith’s waist, his body positioned perfectly between his legs, and he was only Galra in the end, unable to keep from scenting him and nuzzling closer.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up to see Keith staring at him, eyes wide. Holding himself still, as if waiting to see what Shiro would do next, as Shiro’s tail came up to curl around his ankle, as Shiro’s thumb stroked Keith’s hip.

As Shiro licked his lips and pressed up and forward, leaning over Keith, so ready, so very, very ready--

He heard the door start to slide open and bit down on a curse, forcing himself to move away and get to his feet. He held out a hand to Keith, who took it, breathing hard.

Shiro wasn’t surprised when Keith excused himself moments later. Keith took some relief in solitude, for all that he hated being alone. What had passed between them had been a hot, heavy thing, and unexpected on Keith’s end. Shiro would never begrudge Keith needing time.

He still came over to sit next to Shiro in the mess hall for dinner that night. Still leaned against Shiro easily, though occasionally his gaze would hastily slide away.

Still accepted the fruit Shiro brought him, the thanks heartfelt if quiet and a touch confused.

Shiro watched him eat out of the corner of his eye, the enjoyment evident in his posture and face, and took that for the victory it was.

Shiro wanted everything, but he was also patient. What he wanted would be gained at Keith’s pace, within Keith’s comfort.

Shiro could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUT CAN WE WAIT SHIRO
> 
> CAN WE
> 
> huhgblug this is too long why is it so long


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith wasn’t someone who held back when he’d made a decision or wanted to test a theory. He took a breath, looked around his room, and then left it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *thunk* <\- the sound of me falling over.
> 
> (btw, thank you so much for all your lovely comments! I've been in this fandom for like a grand total of three weeks, so I don't know very many people yet. I really appreciate all you readers!)

Keith got ready for bed that evening still turning his thoughts over and over in his mind. He knew by now that the touching was something Shiro did for closeness, but also was a Galra thing. Scenting. Letting others know Keith was someone important to Shiro. And Keith couldn’t help the thought that it hinted at a possessiveness.  _ This one’s mine. _

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t like that idea. 

He slipped on his red hoodie for an extra layer, fingers playing with the hem. Shiro had given him other gifts in the time they’d known each other, all thoughtful, all useful; a blanket, food, a beautiful knife, his own stories. 

Keith wasn’t someone who held back when he’d made a decision or wanted to test a theory. He took a breath, looked around his room, and then left it.

The door to Shiro’s room opened before he had raised his hand to knock, Shiro’s expression surprised and pleased. “Keith. Come on in.”

“Never going to get over your Galra super-senses,” Keith said good-naturedly as he followed Shiro into the room.

“Good,” Shiro replied, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I like having the element of surprise on my side. I need all the advantages I can get.”

Keith rolled his eyes and sat down next to Shiro on the bed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red hoodie. Shiro’s tail came up to wrap around Keith’s waist, his arm to rest across Keith’s shoulders. Comforting touches, pulling Keith in until he was tucked up against Shiro’s side. 

Keith turned in towards Shiro and licked his lips. Watched as Shiro’s eyes tracked the motion. 

“Hey,” he murmured, reaching up to curl one hand around the back of Shiro’s neck. Shiro’s attention was all focused on him, his breathing soft but rapid. “Tell me if I’ve got it wrong.” 

He didn’t really know what he was doing when it came to kissing, aside from the fact that it was something he hadn’t cared much about… before Shiro. Now he wanted to try things and see, see what he liked, see what Shiro liked. 

If this was something Shiro wanted.

He moved slow and he moved careful, just in case, pressing his lips against Shiro’s. He made to pull back when Shiro didn’t respond, went still against him, Keith's apologies ready on his tongue.

Then Shiro let out a low-throated rumble and he wrapped his arms around Keith’s body, pulling him into his lap, mouth covering Keith’s own. Keith’s hands went up to clutch at Shiro’s shoulders and he was, if nothing else, a quick learner. Kissing was soft and easy, and so, so good, and when something warm and wet traced Keith’s lips, he opened his mouth and let Shiro in and  _ oh _ that was something else too.

Kissing was  _ dizzying _ after a while, and it was only several minutes later that Keith registered Shiro’s hand moving down his back until it was playing with the hem of his hoodie. “Okay?” Shiro breathed.

Keith wasn’t entirely sure what he was being asked permission for but Shiro had it either way, so he nodded and then gasped when Shiro’s hand slid underneath his shirt. It stroked up his back, pulling him in even closer until they were pressed together with no space in between, and they kissed and kissed and kissed until, panting, Keith had to take a minute to rest his forehead on Shiro’s chest and breathe.

Shiro’s hand was a warm press across Keith’s back, the other hand cradling the back of Keith’s head, holding him like he was something precious. He felt enveloped and warm. Protected. Desired. So many things he was unused to feeling, but Shiro was safe and thought he was worth something. Worth this. 

Worth  _ him. _

“Can I stay here tonight?” Keith asked.

Shiro’s hand moved to cup his chin, tilting his face up. His eyes were bright, expression earnest and soft. The kiss was softer. “Please.”

They both smiled, soft and private, and met for another kiss. And another, and another.

Keith ended up taking off his tops, leaving them folded for the morning, because with the covers and Shiro he was plenty warm. It also meant more skin contact, and Keith maybe revelled a little at having Shrio touching him without cloth in between. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, Shiro tracing little patterns into his back.

 

***

 

Keith woke up the next morning so happy he felt like he’d burst, because there was in the moment and then there was  _ after _ the moment when you realized that yes, things really had happened and would probably continue. Continue to be good. He smiled down at Shrio, who was still asleep, and ran a finger over one ear just to see it twitch. He laughed quietly and managed to extricate himself, heading into Shiro’s bathroom. He felt no qualms with using it, though he froze where he stood, drying his face with Shiro’s towel, when he felt warm arms slide around him. Relaxed immediately as a face nuzzled into the back of his neck.

“Morning,” Keith said, voice colored with fond amusement.

“Mm. Morning.”

Shiro stayed wrapped around Keith for a long moment, then pressed a kiss to Keith’s neck, rubbed his face against Keith’s cheek, and stepped away.

“I’m going to go back to my rooms and change,” Keith told him, so that Shiro didn’t wonder where he’d gone when he left the bathroom.

“Meet in the mess hall for breakfast?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

Shiro beamed at him and Keith smiled back. He darted in for a quick kiss before he lost his nerve and then left to grab his tops and throw them on before he made his way back to his own bunk.

It was still early, but several people were up and about already. Keith got a lot of looks and double-takes as he walked through the halls of the ship. He nodded in greeting to the people he was friendly with but mostly ignored everyone else. 

Changing never took a lot of time; he was a master at getting his body suit on quickly now, after so much practice, so it was only a couple minutes later that he was ready to head out again. 

Before he left, he went over to his mirror. He didn’t usually bother with it--he knew what he looked like, but now he took a second now to look himself over. Same face, same narrow chin, same eyes that had gotten him into a lot of fights when he was younger. Same hair, perpetually just a touch too long and he should really think about getting it cut again. Same frame, lean and strong, a body he was proud of, but one that had gotten him a lot of disdainful, disbelieving glances when he’d first made contact with the Blades as a skilled fighter. And of course, same personality, which didn’t show in the mirror but Keith knew that he could be hot-headed, quick to anger, abrasive. Not one to bite his tongue on opinions others might not like, though he’d had to get better at it, get more political over the years. Mostly that just meant he’d become more guarded.

Not really a catch by human standards, not that he’d ever cared much. Certainly when it came to Galra he wasn’t at all desirable.

But Shiro liked him anyway.

And really, that was all Keith needed.

 

***

 

They both got a bunch of looks at breakfast, maybe because they kept smiling at each other, more than they usually did. Keith sort of wondered what kind of picture they made to an outside observer; the half-Galra newbie just earning his place and a well-ranked, well-respected full Galra grinning at each other and exchanging casual touches. 

Galra were tactile in the first place, touch and scent oriented, and, well, looking back on when he and Shiro first met up to now, there was probably a lot of things Keith had missed but that everyone else had picked up on. No one in their group seemed particularly surprised by… whatever they had deduced. Ronand made a joke about never seeing Keith in such a good mood before and poking a question as to why. The eyebrow he raised in Shiro’s direction wasn’t subtle.

Shiro responded easily, throwing an arm around Keith’s shoulder and squeezing. Playful but also possessive, or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Keith liked it.

They had to part ways after breakfast, going to their separate duties. Keith was often sent to do repairs, because he was good with his hands and also small enough to get into tight spaces, and that’s how he spent a lot of his time, outside of the training hall. He enjoyed that sort of work, puzzling out how best to fix something--and improve it, when allowed. He tinkered plenty in his spare time, making the most out of scrap because deadweight was worse than useless out in space.

It was easy to lose himself in some of the work, but when it was rote he sometimes sank into his own thoughts. This time they unsurprisingly turned to Shiro and this new thing that was happening now. Shiro  _ wanting _ him. Conversation and touching and gifts and kissing. Unbidden, he brought a hand to his mouth, no longer swollen from kisses but he could still feel the phantom press of Shiro’s lips against his own.

Keith had never thought about it before, but he really liked kissing, when he was doing it with Shiro. Shiro obviously liked it too. In… in more ways than one. Keith had spent a lot of time in Shiro’s lap last night, just kissing and being kissed and-- 

He also remembered Shiro’s expression after sparring yesterday, when he’d moved between Keith’s legs. His desire was unmistakable. It was almost scary, to be wanted so much, except that Keith knew exactly what it felt like now  _ to _ want. He didn’t know what Shiro saw in him, not human enough, not Galra enough, but Shiro was… 

He was skilled and intelligent. Powerful and strong. He’d lived through horrors and still was capable of gentleness. He was kind. On a purely physical level, he was… very attractive. 

Keith liked looking at him, liked watching him move, liked feeling his body against his own. Liked when Shiro touched him.

Keith swallowed and kept working. Shiro was attractive in every way, and in the time Keith had been with the Blades, he’d observed others who clearly agreed. And Shiro had chosen  _ Keith. _

Keith finished with his repairs on the outside body of the machine he was fixing and grabbed a flashlight before he slid on his back underneath it. His hands moved steadily as his mind also continued to work. Shiro led most of what had happened last night, after Keith’s first move. Had been the one to deepen the kiss, to ask permission to stroke up and down Keith’s spine. Had let Keith pull back when he’d needed to, but was visibly pleased when Keith offered himself up again. Showed such clear desire to take whatever Keith was willing to give him. No more than that, but it was obvious he  _ wanted. _

Keith wasn’t… experienced. He’d had no one, and then he’d had no time, and the latter had been good. It’d kept him from dwelling on the former. 

Shiro seemed to know what he wanted. Keith was much less sure, with one exception.

He wanted to give Shiro everything he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KISSING. KISSING HAS HAPPENED!!
> 
> *At Last by Etta James starts playing in the background*
> 
> ...and yet the story isn't done. why.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith learned new things every day, and the more he learned, the more he wanted to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> story is definitely no longer rated T.  
> just uh.  
> take note.  
> (thank you again for all your comments!)

Nothing much changed over the next few days. They still spent meals together. They still met each other in the training hall. They still took moments to talk in between. Except now, when Shiro brushed his fingers over Keith’s cheek, Keith felt comfortable nuzzling a little into his palm, revelling at Shiro’s sharp intake of breath. Except now, when Keith was feeling brave, he said “come here” and reached up returned the touch.

Except now, when it was time to turn in, Keith gathered together his clothes for the next day and then walked to Shiro’s room, giving and taking more kisses before curling up with Shiro in his bed to sleep.

He learned more of what he liked. He liked skin on skin. He liked when Shiro traced the knobs of his spine. He liked when Shiro dipped down to kiss under his jaw, mouthed at his neck and collarbone.

He learned more of what Shiro liked. Which mostly just seemed to be having an armful or a lapful of Keith. But Keith paid attention, and he honed in on whenever Shiro’s breath shifted, got more ragged, whenever he licked his lips, whenever his eyes darkened. 

Baring his neck got a stunned expression the first several times he did it, before Shiro ducked in to kiss there. The expression had evolved into something a lot more heated, Shiro rumbling in satisfaction every time Keith gasped.

Shiro liked making him squirm, skirting his hands up and down Keith’s body while they kissed. He liked when Keith made noise, grin going slightly feral whenever he managed to elicit something from Keith who was so used to being quiet. He liked Keith reaching up to stroke his ears. 

He  _ loved _ sucking marks into Keith’s skin. And Keith liked getting them. Liked looking at them in the morning, pressing his fingers into the bruises and feeling the ghost of Shiro’s mouth. It felt like carrying around proof of Shiro’s affection wherever he went. 

Keith learned new things every day, and the more he learned, the more he wanted to try. Right now they mostly they kissed and cuddled and it was  _ great. _ More than he’d ever expected to have. 

Except Keith kind of wanted more. Shiro wanted more too, Keith was pretty sure. But he never pushed for anything if Keith didn’t initiate and seemed perfectly happy to coast along at Keith’s pace. 

The only thing was that Keith didn’t really know what his pace  _ was. _ He didn’t know enough about this sort of intimacy. 

So he broached the subject with Shiro one night.

“You can do more, you know,” he panted out, as Shiro skimmed teeth over his collarbone. “ _ Ah _ if--if you want to.”

“Mm?” Shiro lifted his head, eyes bright. “More?”

“If… if you want to. You know, um, take the lead more. I don’t… I don’t really know, uh.” Keith shrugged from his place in Shiro’s lap. He could feel Shiro hard underneath him, and Keith was hard himself. And he didn’t know why the fuck he was self conscious about that. But he’d always been one to keep  _ feelings _ in, if they weren’t angry. 

Maybe that was why.

Shiro was still watching him carefully, head slightly tilted. Keith pushed to keep talking. Communication, right? That was good. That was important. “I’d tell you if I needed you to stop,” he ended up settling on, gaze sliding to the side.

Shiro’s hand came up to carefully take his chin, move him so they were looking at each other. “I want to do a lot to make you feel good,” Shiro murmured. “If you’d trust me to do that--”

“I trust you,” Keith said immediately. That wasn’t even a question. “So just… you know. Whatever you want. And I’ll stop you if I have to.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

Shiro smiled at him and then moved, laying Keith down on his back and leaning over him. He tucked his neck into the crook of Keith’s neck and nuzzled there. A pleasant feeling and a familiar one. Keith could both feel and hear his deep inhale, before one of Shiro’s hands wrapped around his waist, the other carefully stroking down his chest then up again, before circling one of Keith’s nipples. 

Keith licked his lips. This was new. He pushed up on his elbows to see what Shiro was going to do next, and watched as Shiro mouthed down his chest, lower than he’d ever gone before, before reaching his other nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

Keith’s breath hitched. Shiro sucked a little harder, his hand rubbing over the nipple not in his mouth, and  _ fuck _ he hadn’t ever expected that to be a place where he was sensitive but--

Shiro’s tongue flicked out to lave at him, added just a hint of teeth, and Keith let out a thready little noise. Shiro licked again, before he picked up his head, eyes hooded. “Good?”

“Y-yeah.”

A fanged grin. “Good.” And then he sucked  _ hard _ , Keith throwing his head back at the sensation of that, of Shiro pinching his other nipple before rubbing it again, sucking and licking and nipping before kissing across his chest to pay attention to that side too and Shiro  _ really _ liked it when Keith squirmed, which was good because he was doing an awful lot of it.

The next time Shiro picked up his head he surged forward for a kiss, and Keith opened up for him, losing himself in it. This kiss was just a little harder, rougher, messier, the hand curled around his waist rubbing a thumb over and over his hipbone, and Keith was aware of nipples in a way he’d never been before, peaked and wet and a little sore but in a  _ good _ way. Shiro nipped at his lip one more time before he pulled away and looked down with such fondness that it made Keith squirm for a completely different reason. 

Shiro reached out to trace Keith’s lower lip with one large finger, and Keith spontaneously opened his mouth and flicked his tongue over it. Shiro’s eyes widened, and then he gently pressed his finger forward. Keith sucked it into his mouth and watched as Shiro shuddered, focused on his face as Keith sucked a little harder, feeling the pad of Shiro’s finger flutter on his tongue. 

Shiro tentatively lifted a second finger to Keith’s lips, and Keith opened for it too, eyes going to half-mast as Shiro’s breathing went loud and ragged and he slowly started to slide his two fingers in and out of Keith’s mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Keith, look at you.”

Keith hummed and closed his eyes for a long moment, another way to display to Shiro how much trust he had him in. As soon as he opened his eyes again, Shiro slipped his fingers out of Keith’s mouth and replaced them with his tongue, skating his wet fingers down Keith’s chest again, lower and lower, until they were at the waistband of Keith’s sleep pants.

Shiro drew back just enough to breathe a request for permission, checking in even now.

In answer, Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him back in. “Yeah,” he murmured into Shiro’s mouth. “Trust you.”

Another rumble of pleasure, before Shiro’s hand dipped inside. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.” And then he wrapped a hand around Keith’s cock.

Keith had been hard for a while, a buzz through his body, but one he had been ignoring to focus on everything else he and Shiro were doing. Now, feeling Shiro envelop him--he let out a whimper and squeezed his eyes shut, hips bucking up. “ _ Ah _ \--fuck--Shiro--”

Shiro kissed his neck, and Keith could feel his smile as he thumbed the head with his spit-slick fingers, smearing the precum there before he started to stroke. “Mm-hm.” He sounded very pleased with himself.

“Y-you too. Can you--can we--” he wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking but he knew he wanted “C-can I see you? Feel you?”

Shiro let go of him, and Keith made a sound at the loss that he’d be embarrassed about later, but then Shiro was shuffling back to pull his own pants down and off, cock springing free.

It was...definitely proportionate with the rest of Shiro. Which was, to say, large. Keith swallowed and looked back up at Shiro, who had managed to miss Keith’s expression and was reaching for Keith’s pants, shucked down to his thighs. Keith lifted his hips and helped Shiro wiggle him out of them and drop them to the floor. He had a brief moment to take in that he was  _ naked with Shiro who was also naked _ before Shiro was blanketing him with his body, worming one arm under his back to hold him even closer. And all the skin on skin--Keith let out a blissed out moan at just being able to feel all of Shiro against him without clothes in the way before Shiro snaked his free hand down between them and closed it around both their cocks.

“ _ Hn-- _ ” it was nothing Keith had ever experienced before, and it was a lot to take in, Shiro’s hand large enough to hold them both, Shiro rocking against him even as his hand moved, adding another element of friction, Shiro covering all of him, big and warm and strong, hard muscle that could deal so much damage but would never, ever hurt him.

He was reduced to gasps and whimpers as Shiro continued to move, hands clutching at Shiro’s shoulders, spiraling up and up. “I-- _ haa _ \--Shiro--I--”

“Show me,” Shiro said, voice almost a growl. “Show me how good I make you feel, Keith.”

And Keith was so close anyway-- he arched up and cried out and came all over Shiro’s hand, opening his eyes just in time to see Shiro shudder through his own orgasm, painting Keith’s stomach and chest with ropes of white.

“Holy fuck,” Keith panted when he got his breath back, eyeing the mess. “Shiro, you--” he looked up and stopped. Shiro was staring down at him with an expression so heated that Keith honestly had no idea how to respond. “Shiro?”

“ _ Keith. _ ” Definitely a growl as Shiro leaned forward. He dipped his fingers in the mess on Keith’s stomach and swirled them, gathering more onto his fingers, before reaching down to rub it into the skin of Keith’s thighs, his stomach, his chest.

_Oh._ Keith thought distantly. _Scent marking._ _Probably?_

Whatever it was, Shiro was  _ focused, _ eyes dilated. He kept one hand pressed over Keith’s stomach and bent over Keith’s body. Licked a long stripe from mid-chest to the join where neck met shoulder, letting out a pleased rumble as he nuzzled in before biting lightly at Keith’s neck, then sucking hard. 

“Ah--nn--Shiro--” Another rumble as Shiro continued to suck at the spot he’d chosen. Keith could feel the hickey forming and knew it’d be large and visible. Didn’t really care.

Eventually Shiro was satisfied, and he smiled down at Keith before rolling over onto his back, pulling Keith with him so that Keith was splayed out over his chest, Shiro’s arms coming up to wrap around him.

Keith pushed up on his elbows to grin down at him. He was feeling pretty good anyway, but Shiro’s total and utter satisfaction was infectious. “Enjoyed that, huh?”

Shiro reached up to trail a fingernail down Keith’s cheek. “Very much. You?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Good.”

Keith let out a happy sigh and pressed his cheek to Shiro’s chest, letting himself relax into Shiro’s body. Certainly there was no worry of squishing him. “I’m gross,” he mumbled after a while.

“You’re perfect.”

Keith snorted. “You basically painted me with your come, Shiro.”

A hand stroked down his back. “I like it.”

“Like me being sticky and gross?”

“Like you smelling like pleasure and sex and  _ me _ .”

“Oh,” Keith said, breath catching.

“I want to taste you next time,” Shiro continued.

“You--really?” He knew about blowjobs duh, but hadn’t really gotten why people liked giving them. Though he could admit to being curious. About what it would be like to get one.

About what it would be like, to give one to Shiro.

Shiro, who wasn’t done talking. “Mm. Take you in my mouth until you’re incoherent. Hold you down and just make you  _ feel.  _ Taste you when you spill.”

Keith shivered. “If you keep talking like that, you might um, get the chance sooner over later.” 

Shiro chuckled, and lying the way they were, Keith felt it in his whole body. “I wouldn’t complain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHELP.
> 
> next chapters will probably be slower to come, as life is about to get much busier for me. and also I genuinely don't know when or how this thing is going to end. but I'll do my best!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Could everyone on this ship tell you were into me before I got the memo?”
> 
> “Probably.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've finally... finally gotten there. the reason this whole fic was started in the first place.  
> *falls over*

Keith woke up the next morning before Shiro, like he normally did. He took his usual moment to smile down at Shiro, resisted the urge to flick at his ear, and then got up and headed into Shiro’s bathroom.

He didn’t bother with a shower, since last night he’d eventually insisted on being let up to take one, but made easy use of everything else. Shiro was still sleeping when Keith emerged from the bathroom, but he’d rolled over into the spot Keith had been laying, nose buried in what had been Keith’s pillow.

Keith grinned at the picture it made before he left for the training hall to get his morning workout in.

 

***

 

He felt eyes on him about twenty minutes into his usual routine, and turned just enough to see that yeah, it was Shiro lurking in a corner and watching him, eyes bright. Keith cocked an eyebrow. _You going to just stand there all day, or are you going to move?_

Shiro raised an eyebrow of his own and came closer.

“Morning,” Keith said, before Shiro could open his mouth.

“Good morning.” Shiro gave him a very obvious once-over. “Hard at work.”

Keith shrugged. “Usual stuff.”

A smirk now. “Nothing about you is usual in the least.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Are you going to train, or did you just come here to watch me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to which option?” Keith asked, squinting at him.

Shiro let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. “Both, really. But I suppose I can get my own exercise in.”

They nodded and then went to different areas, giving each other the usual space to practice on their own. Keith kept feeling like he was being watched though. And it wasn’t just a feeling; every time he looked over at Shiro, the Galra’s eyes were on him.

Well, whatever. It wasn’t like Keith minded _._

 

***

 

Shiro sat next to him at breakfast, like usual. He tended to watch Keith while he ate, which was something Keith was used to now. What he wasn’t used to was the _intensity_ of Shiro’s gaze. Something was up.

It didn’t feel like something bad, but definitely something Keith should be asking about.

He figured he’d wait til after breakfast in order to get a more private opportunity to ask, but he didn’t get the chance because Shiro was approached almost as soon he was finished eating, needed for a meeting. He threw Keith one last heated look before he was led away, leaving Keith confused but very interested.

It went on like that all day. He and Shiro didn’t _always_ interact every moment throughout a day, even if they tried. They each had responsibilities. They did their best to make time in between, but everyone had to pull their weight and do their jobs. Downtime happened, but sometimes it didn’t match up. That was just life. They usually were able to manage meals together, and of course in the evening--that had been time they’d taken for each other even before Keith had started sleeping in Shiro’s room.

So this was just one of those days where they crossed paths but didn’t have a lot of free moments together.

One common thing though, during every single glance they were able to exchange, was Shiro’s… Keith could only describe it as an aura. Something. Still intense. And it got… more, whenever Shiro looked at him. To the point that _Shiro_ was getting looks from the other Galra. Keith sort of wondered what they were picking up that he couldn’t.

Ronand, who was probably the one Keith was most friendly with after Shiro, finally threw his hands up while he and Keith were doing some hand-to-hand routines that evening. Nothing too involved, just some movements designed to work on muscle memory. Shiro had stopped in a couple minutes ago to watch, like he usually did. Sometimes he joined in or offered pointers, but he had said before that he enjoyed admiring Keith’s movements. Keith kind of liked that he could impress Shiro that way. Fighting was something he knew he was good at and trusted himself with. It was nice to be given praise for a skill he was proud of.

“Do something about him,” Ronand hissed, as Keith ducked away from a blow.

Keith frowned at him. “About... Shiro?”

“He’s driving me crazy!”

Keith spared Shiro a glance. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, the picture of casual. “What are you talking about?”

“How can you not _tell_?”

“Tell what?” Keith asked, trying not to get annoyed. He flipped out of the way of a leg sweep, but Ronand took a step back when Keith approached again, holding up his hands.

“I end the match,” he said.

Keith shot him an incredulous look. They were barely done with warm-ups. It was a series of eight back-and-forth movements, each to be repeated eight times before moving onto the next. They were only on the first repetition of movement four. “Why?”

Ronand jerked his head in Shiro’s direction, violently if minutely. “Because he’s been  projecting how much he wants you since breakfast and there is _only so much I can ignore._ ”

Keith blinked at him. Glanced at Shiro again, who threw him a small smile, before turning back to Ronand. “Projecting?”

Ronand gave him a flat look. “I’d say you’re lucky you can’t smell it, but if you could then maybe you’d be doing something about it.”

And Keith had known that the Galra had a strong sense of smell--obviously, if scenting was so important to them, but it had never crossed his mind that they could smell things like… arousal?

Huh.

Wait.

“Since... breakfast?”   

“For fuck’s sake why are you still _talking_ to me? Go--deal with him.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith said, flushing. “Good match.”

Ronand muttered something disparaging, Keith barely catching it since he was already crossing the room.

When Keith was within arms length, Shiro immediately reached out to stroke a thumb across the side of Keith’s neck. Keith grabbed his hand as Shiro drew it away and started walking.

“Since breakfast?” Keith demanded, once they were out of the training hall. “And everyone could tell?”

“Do you mind?” Shrio asked, looking uncertain for the first time since morning.

Keith sputtered. “Of course not. But you could’ve just _said_.”

Shiro grinned, all fang. “Patience yields focus. It gave me something to look forward to.”

“Could everyone on this ship tell you were into me before I got the memo?”

“Probably.”

And if that didn’t suddenly make him come up all warm, the knowledge that Shiro had… staked a claim. Keith wondered if it was the Galra in him, that wanted to, like, purr at that idea.

Shiro’s grin got, if possible, wider. “You like that.”

Keith squinted at him. “You can smell that also?”

“I’m learning. Being able to tell how your scent changes and what it means.”

“Can everyone else?”

Shiro’s eyes flashed. “No. With your human side, your scent is still alien. I’m the only one who’s gotten close enough to you to learn deeper meanings.” His voice got lower as he added, “And you like that too.”

Keith shrugged, trying for nonchalant, but he might have picked up the pace a little as he headed to his room. It was closer. “Maybe.”

Shiro rumbled a laugh.

 

***

 

Shiro was on him as soon as Keith’s door slid shut, crowding him up against said door to take his mouth, one hand wrapping around his waist, the other moving to cup his ass.

“Oh,” Keith said breathlessly, as Shiro’s fingers kneaded into him. “Not… not exaggerating.”

“Not in the least,” Shiro growled.

Keith tugged him closer again for another long kiss before pressing his face into Shiro’s neck, giving him the little kitten-licks he had learned very quickly were something Shiro liked very much.

Shiro’s grip on him tightened, not to the point of pain but enough to feel well and truly _held,_ and Keith smugly scraped his teeth over a tendon in his neck.

For all of two seconds, because the next moment he was being picked up, Shiro crossing the room to deposit Keith on his stomach on the bed, reaching for the zipper of his suit. Keith obligingly helped Shiro get him undressed, moving as Shiro moved him until he was on his stomach again, the one difference being that he was completely naked.

He rolled up on one elbow to eye Shiro, who was still fully dressed. “Oh yeah, that’s fair.”

Shiro grinned at him and traced Keith’s lips with his thumb. Keith sucked it into his mouth just to see Shiro’s eyes dilate. “I still get to take the lead?” he asked.

Keith raised an eyebrow and bit at Shiro’s thumb.

Shiro chuckled and withdrew his thumb. “Okay. I’ll stop asking as long as your promise to speak up if you don’t like something still stands.”

“Obviously.”

Shiro smiled and splayed a hand over Keith’s back, pushing him down until Keith was back to lying fully on his stomach. It was clear that was the position Shiro wanted him in, so Keith pillowed his head in his arms and waited, body alight with anticipation.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Shiro breathed, stroking a hand down Keith’s back, before both of his hands pressed on Keith’s ass, spreading him. He expected to feel the light prick of Shiro’s nails, but Shiro was palming him with his left hand, and had retracted the tips on his prosthetic.

There was a moment where it felt like Shiro was just _looking_ at him, and Keith tried not to close his legs under the scrutiny. He was totally exposed like this, and while he wasn’t worried--he was never worried when it came to Shiro, except when he was worried _for_ him--Keith wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

The warm, wet tongue licking a long stripe over his hole hadn’t even made the _list._

He jerked in Shiro’s grip, first from surprise then again in pleasure, as Shiro traced his tongue over the pucker of his hole. He couldn’t even parse how it felt, but it was also coupled with the knowledge of what Shiro was _doing_ to him. “Oh god, Shiro--”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” Shiro said, his voice warm puffs of air against Keith’s skin before he resumed long, messy licks, up and down and then circling Keith’s hole and Keith was going to _die._

He tried to move, not sure if he wanted to squirm away or towards the sensation of being-- being _licked open,_ but Shiro’s grip on him was iron. Keith couldn’t move his hips, couldn’t push up or back, he could only lie there and take it, his breath rough and ragged as he clutched at the sheets.

“Shiro, fuck, Shiro--” There was a rumble of a reply that Keith could feel everywhere before Shiro’s tongue pushed _in._

The whimper Keith let out probably wasn’t fully human, but Shiro’s tongue was _inside him,_ pressing in and out before flicking over Keith’s hole again, the flat of his tongue covering so much of him at once.

It stabbed in again, going deeper as Shiro’s hands spread him a little more, keeping him pinned and immobile, and Keith was going to be totally incoherent soon. He was already halfway there, not able to do much else but make noise, high, thready moans interspersed with Shiro’s name.

He tried to push up again, give him enough room to work a hand underneath his body to wrap around his cock, but Shiro caught his wrist and pressed it firmly down on the bed. “No,” he said. “Stay.”

Keith sobbed and fisted his hand back in his sheets, hanging on for dear life as Shiro let out another deeply pleased sound. “So good,” he murmured in between licks. Keith shuddered. He couldn’t tell if Shiro was praising his obedience or commenting on how he tasted and either option was mind blowing in different ways.

“Sh-Shiro-- _hn--_ ”

One large hand pressed to the small of his back, the other curling around his hip, and then he was being flipped over. He blinked up at Shiro, who grinned down at him from between Keith’s parted legs. One hand went to each of Keith’s thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin, before Shiro was hiking up Keith’s left leg and moving forward.

It wasn’t quite a stretch, because Keith was pretty flexible--and the look in Shiro’s eyes at discovering that first hand in this particular situation made Keith shiver. Followed by a punched out moan when Shiro licked a long stripe up Keith’s cock.

When Shiro sucked him down, Keith arched up off the bed-- and the bottom half of him stayed up, Shiro lifting him like he weighed nothing (which he _didn’t,_ not to Shiro). Shiro switched off between lapping at Keith’s cock and mouthing at his hole and then Keith couldn’t take it anymore. “Shiro--Shiro I-- _ah_ \--I’m--” He tried to string the right words together to give a proper warning, but Shiro just looked at him, eyes dark with lust, and took Keith’s cock back into his mouth again.

Keith came _hard,_ whole body jerking with it, and the feeling was only accented by Shiro swallowing around him, then holding him in his mouth as Keith softened. He pushed feebly at Shiro’s head, wrung out and oversensitive, head thunking back to the pillows as Shiro let him slide free.

Panting, he watched Shiro lick his lips, clearly pleased with himself, before Shiro lowed him back down to rest fully on the bed. He moved to nose at the jut of Keith’s hips, and it took Keith several moments to get his breath and brain back enough to try to roll up to his knees.

A hand splayed over his stomach stopped him before he got very far. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your turn,” Keith said, eyeing the obvious bulge between Shiro’s legs. Because Shiro _still_ was fully clothed. And hard. And Keith was going to--do something about that. About all of those things. “Come here.”

Shiro chuckled and obliged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re going to LEAVE IT THERE. They have lots and lots of sex and absolutely adore each other and Shiro showers Keith with gifts forever. Also they win the war and the bad guys all get defeated and Shiro and Keith become partners traveling through space and helping with war reparations. The end.

**Author's Note:**

> (I am on twitter! [@justsayins](https://twitter.com/justsayins) and I tweet stuff sometimes! Mostly about writing and fandom. And writing fandom.)


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